


love you inside out

by vividlyy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Canon Universe, Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Strip Tease Gone Wrong, laughing & silliness & fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-05 20:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13395618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vividlyy/pseuds/vividlyy
Summary: One, he was drunk. Two, Lance was also drunk. Three, they were both drunk, together, in space, and Keith figured that meant they could do whatever the hell they wanted.





	love you inside out

**Author's Note:**

> edit: sorry for anyone who read this before i fixed the copy and paste error :'( ... i'm a mess, but hopefully this reads better now!
> 
> // largely inspired by [im-with-lance](https://im-with-lance.tumblr.com/) \- thanks for the ideas !!
> 
> title from camila cabello's song "inside out" !

This was why Keith never drank at parties.

Well, specifically, Keith never drank at _space_ parties. Back home, a beer or two or three never hurt, but—as Keith now learned—every celebratory drink found on a planet other than Earth happened to have its own entirely different (and not to mention unpleasant) kick. From watching his unfortunate teammates, Keith knew that they could (and would) make your breath smell rotten for two weeks straight, your fingers swell to twice their original size, and splotches of bright color appear all over your skin.

He was surrounded by aliens. He was at a party hosted by said aliens. And he should have known better than to accept the glass Lance handed off to him with nothing more than a wink and a glittering smile.

He’d sniffed at it, and, to his surprise, was met with the familiar scent of wine. Lance gave him a pointed look, he glowered, Lance grinned, and he angrily threw the entire thing down his throat. It had tasted fine, and after he swallowed Lance threw him a thumbs up and strode away.

Fortunately, an hour later, as Keith sipped at his third glass of the evening, his breath smelt fine, his fingers seemed to be normal, and his skin was still as pale as ever.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t … _think_ all too well. It was like someone had swathed his mind in cotton and painted clouds over his eyes; he felt lighter than air as he wandered the room, very few thoughts drifting through his head. His vision blurred a little around the edges, and he came to a stop, swaying comfortably with the smooth honey in his veins.

Maybe he should stop drinking this—

Keith glanced down at his hand, at the glass it held.

—whatever this was.

Or maybe he could sit down. Keith looked to his left, to his right, and pouted when he failed to spot any chairs around him. But, dilemma quickly forgotten, he continued his mindless stroll around the room (how big could one room be, anyway?) with a laze in his step and a barely-there smile on his face.

He brushed past a giggling Hunk, a concerned Shiro, an amused Coran, and—oh, here was Lance.

Keith stepped back from where he’d suddenly collided into his very tall, very warm, and very handsome boyfriend.

Without even a flinch, Lance turned to regard Keith with one of his brilliant smiles. He was holding a glass identical to the one Keith held.

“Why, hello there.” There was something different about his voice; it sounded smoother, loose in his throat, and seemed to melt into Keith like cotton candy against his tongue.

Keith blinked up at the kind brown face swimming in front of him.

“Having a good time?”

Blinking again, Keith felt a blissful smile spread across the lower half of his face. He really had the most beautiful boyfriend, and he was really fucking drunk.

“Me too,” Lance sighed, and Keith snapped out of his daze, startled.

“What?”

Looking confused, Lance repeated, “Me too,” and raised his glass to his mouth.

Oh, Keith realized, he must’ve accidentally said that last part out loud. With this realization in mind, Keith came to three very important conclusions:

One, he was drunk. Two, Lance was also drunk. Three, they were both drunk, together, in space, and Keith figured that meant they could do whatever the _hell_ they wanted.

So, without further ado, he threw a hand around the back of Lance’s neck and pulled him down to mash their lips together.

Lance made a strangled sort of noise, muffled by the insistent press of Keith’s tongue, but his surprise lasted for nothing more than a brief second before he was going slack under Keith’s mouth, opening his own invitingly as he hummed in content. Two of his fingers stroked slow along the small of Keith’s back.

Keith soon found himself giddy with excitement. He loved kissing. He loved kissing _Lance_. Fuck— _he loved Lance_ —and he pushed even closer, close enough to mold their bodies into one and feel Lance’s tongue moving sloppy against his. He wrapped himself all around Lance, mind pleasantly numb, eyes crossing where they stared half-lidded at the faint freckles dusting the bridge of Lance’s nose.

Why hadn’t he done this before? Keith frowned to himself, even as Lance dipped them further back; it was so nice, so easy, so…

Keith changed his mind—he _loved_ drinking at space parties. In his head, he began to pledge that _he, Keith Kogane, Red Paladin of Voltron, would hereby drink at every single space party from this moment onwards and—_

An unwelcome hand wedged itself between him and Lance.

“O-kay, I think that’s enough for tonight.”

Keith glared into Shiro’s sheepish face as he turned to smile apologetically at those around them (who actually seemed to be more curious than offended, in Keith’s opinion, but he wasn’t in the mood for fighting Shiro—not when he was still loose-limbed and wanting to get back to kissing Lance as soon as possible).

But before he could follow through with that particular thought, Lance grabbed his wrist and tugged him away, and Keith and his unsteady feet went along happily. He twisted back for the sole purpose of watching Shiro sigh in exasperation, and, in pure delight, felt laughter brim in his chest.

“What’re you—” Lance took one look at his face, stretched to its limits with a grin (he could hardly remember the last time he’d smiled that wide), and cut himself off with, “Oh. _Oh_ , you’re amazing.”

Keith beamed, and for one glorious second Lance beamed back. Then he continued pulling Keith along, and Keith saw that they were headed for the huge double doors at the very front of the room, throw wide open to reveal the buttery yellow of the sky. Awed by the color, Keith slowed to a stop, tipping his head back to stare reverently above him.

“Hey, hey,” Lance teetered impossibly close, like he had a secret to share, “come on, let’s go to my room.” He slid an arm around Keith’s shoulder to bring their bodies flush together, dropping an open-mouthed kiss onto the skin of his neck that wasn’t covered by his bodysuit.

Keith chased Lance’s mouth, pouting upon discovering he’d already pulled back, and asked, “Why?” His head swam with an overwhelming warmth as they stumbled towards the castle, looming large and bright across the long expanse of brittle sand under their feet.

“ ‘Cause it’s closer than yours.”

“Oh,” Keith said, even though Lance hadn’t really answered his question, “okay.”

Somehow they managed to make it to the castle, through several long hallways, and into Lance’s room, giggling with every step and furiously shushing each other at every turn even when there was no one around to witness their embarrassing attempts at remaining upright.

As Keith listened to the sound of the door sliding shut with a soft _whoosh_ , Lance spun them around to press him into the nearest wall, and the force of it sent their foreheads knocking together.

“Nice one,” Keith said, snickering, watching as Lance lolled his head back in exaggerated pain and groaned aloud.

“I’ll show you nice.”

Keith’s brow hooked upward, but he was still grinning as if he’d never stop. “Not getting any younger,” he sang, and Lance scoffed a little before slotting his mouth against Keith’s with no finesse whatsoever, yet still managing to make Keith’s stomach squeeze tight and his heart knock hard against his ribs. He could feel the warm press of Lance’s palm sliding along the curve of his neck, up his jaw, into his hair. Warm, and soft, and so very easy to fall into—like fading into the beginnings of a dream.

But their armor was making things particularly difficult, especially when Keith tried to push close enough to roll his hips against Lance’s in the way he usually would have, so it wasn’t long nor much of a surprise when Lance pulled back.

“C’mere,” he murmured, fingers slipping down Keith’s arm until they circled around his wrist, and maneuvered Keith across the room to sit him on the bed pushed against the far wall. He wore a wide, mischievous smile—the kind that made Keith shiver in part excitement and part apprehension.

“Alright, babe, watch this,” Lance took one step away from the bed, then another, and placed his hands on his hips in all his drunken confidence. “I’m gonna strip for you.”

Keith snorted with sudden laughter, and Lance’s mouth twisted into a displeased frown.

“What? Don’t think I can pull it off?”

“It’s not that,” Keith shook his head. “It’s _that_.” He leaned forward to press the tip of one finger against Lance’s chest, obstructed by hard armor.

Even as he glanced down at his chestplate, Lance wore a puzzled look on his face, as if he couldn’t comprehend why his current ensemble was a problem.

“So?”

Keith shrugged, leaning further back onto the mattress and lolling his head over his shoulder. “Whatever. Show me what you got, _babe_.”

Grinning, Lance bit at his lower lip, movements bold and sure as his hands dragged their way along the circle of his waist, hooking along his belt. Slowly, slowly, he unclasped it, letting it slide from his fingers and drop to the floor. Under his breath, he began humming a tune that bordered on familiar, body swaying along to the melody as he started the process of removing his chestplate in that same slow, steady pace.

It was just a touch awkward with all the bulky, hard parts, but Lance made it work with the soft fluidity in every move, courtesy of their drinks. Keith watched with growing interest, tilting his head this way and that to absorb as much of Lance’s show as he could, making a pleased noise once the only thing left from Lance’s waist and up was his skintight suit, clinging to his figure like a second layer of skin.

Then, maintaining eye contact, Lance lifted his leg to detach the plate protecting his thigh, that impish smile still playing on his lips—but he didn’t get very far before he was lurching dangerously, arms flailing out as he quickly planted both feet flat on the ground to stabilize himself.

“Whew,” Lance breathed, still wobbling a bit, “that was close.”

Keith grinned, nodding in agreement, and just as Lance was easing back into his performance he noticed a stray piece of armor lying only centimeters from where Lance was now carefully peeling his bodysuit from his shoulders. Keith frowned, opening his mouth in warning, too late as he watched the top of Lance’s foot catch on the piece and send him—shouting out in surprise—face-first into the floor.

_“Fuck!”_

“Shit, Lance—” Keith was halfway to standing up when Lance thrust a hand out, using the other to push himself off the ground.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he insisted, moving to lower himself onto the mattress beside Keith, who examined him warily as he sat down. Other than his ruffled hair and severely red face, Lance seemed fine, and with that knowledge in mind Keith felt amusement replace the concern simmering within his chest.

He snickered.

Lance shot him a sheepish smile, lifting an arm to rub at his nape, bodysuit still dangling off his upper body, legs still covered in plates of armor. It made quite the picture, and soon Keith was laughing so hard his insides shook, doubling over to clutch at his middle because _oh my god, that just happened._

Lance tried spluttering with outrage, then crossing his arms and pouting, and still ended up with a dopey grin on his face as he listened to Keith laugh and laugh and laugh. And, really, who could blame him?

Eventually, Keith quieted, taking a few deep breaths to regain himself, and Lance spent a moment to admire the obvious effect of laughter on him—the shine of his eyes, the pink in his cheeks, the smile on his lips. He was so gorgeous Lance forgot to breathe.

“What?”

Lance blinked himself back to reality and found Keith staring at him, expectant. “Nothing,” he said, hasty, “just thinking about next time, when I’ll do it _right_.”

Keith hummed consideringly. “It was good—sexy,” he offered, shrugging. “Even when you fell over—that was funny. Funny’s sexy, too.”

“Yeah?” Lance preened, pleased to hear that his failed strip tease maybe hadn’t been a complete disaster after all. Keith sidled closer, buzzing with warmth, and pressed his lips to the corner of Lance’s mouth.

“Yeah.”

Keith pulled him into another kiss, light and lingering for a few blissful moments before their inevitable impatience led it deeper, Keith’s fingers tapping along the bare skin of his shoulders, his tongue tracing the seam of his lips.

They made quick work of the rest of their armor—much easier now that they had two pairs of hands and weren’t concerned with putting on any sort of show—and shifted further up the bed, Lance gently pressing Keith down into the pillows, holding him close enough to feel his heart skip against his chest. He dropped kisses onto the edge of Keith’s jaw, along the line of his neck, and across the slope of his shoulders, each one falling like a drizzle of rain.

At the soft, tingling brush of hair against his stomach, Keith cracked an eye open, startled at the sight of Lance’s chin resting upon his navel, thumb smoothing over the sensitive patch of skin just above his hip. Lance tipped his head to lay another kiss there, his hair skimming along Keith’s stomach once again; Keith made a quiet sound in the back of his throat, muscles jumping.

Lance glanced towards him. “What’s up?”

“Tickles,” Keith muttered, fidgeting a bit, and one side of Lance’s mouth ticked up in a lopsided smile. He continued his way downward, lips tracking the way Keith trembled and sighed under him—all the way down until his lips touched Keith’s cock, already flushed and hard after barely any stimulation. He lifted his head to raise a brow at Keith, whose returning scowl had little to no effect considering his reddened cheeks and blown-out pupils.

Lance took him into the warmth of his mouth, humming softly, eyes dropping half-shut, and Keith immediately arched to meet him, back bending beautifully. His hands grappled uselessly against the sheets, twisting them through the gaps between his fingers, searching for something to ground himself as Lance slid down, down, _down_. It was messy and wet and so very perfect—Keith couldn’t breathe—and all too soon Lance was pulling off, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. Lips cherry red, he shot Keith a grin.

Keith ignored it; he surged upwards to catch Lance in another kiss, and Lance’s hands came up to cradle his jaw as if he were something precious to hold, and his heart seized tight inside his chest.

“Lube?” he gasped, and Lance nodded, swinging his arm over the side of the bed to rummage under it. When he retracted his hand and moved back to sit on his heels, Keith realized that the jar he held was completely unfamiliar to him.

It wasn’t their usual lube, the lube that Keith had been so fortunate to find within the shelves of a small, offbeat store in a remote section of the space mall a few months back. He remembered they’d recently run out, and Lance had said he’d get some more the next time him and Pidge decided to make a spontaneous visit, and now Keith squinted, bewildered, down at what was most certainly _not_ their lube.

Seeing his confusion, Lance rushed to explain. “I went to that store we usually go to, but I guess they didn’t have the normal stuff in stock or something,” he said, then hesitated, brows drawing together like they did whenever he was deep in thought. Keith decided he really, _really_ liked the way Lance’s eyes crinkled a bit, too, and especially the way his nose scrunched up. “So I just … grabbed this instead.”

“Oh,” Keith said, slow and careful, not quite listening as his gaze drifted back down. He wasn’t sure how confident he was in Lance’s newfound space lube.

He watched, curiously, as Lance twisted the cap off, tossed it over his shoulder, and dipped a finger into a thick, cream-like substance. And he watched, horrified, as it glowed red—then pink, then orange, then yellow and green and blue and indigo before returning to red and starting all over again.

“No thanks,” Keith said.

“ ‘s _fine!_ I tested it myself. Nothing to worry about. Coran said so.”

Then—as Keith watched with wide, wide eyes—Lance lifted his glowing, rainbow finger up to his mouth, stuck his tongue out, and _licked_.

“Dead,” Keith muttered, dropping his head back to give the ceiling an unimpressed look, “you’re dead.”

There was a moment of silence, and Keith, puzzled, raised his head again to check if Lance really had died—only to see him grinning stupidly at that one glowing, rainbow finger.

“It’s fine,” he insisted, stretching his jaw wide to show that nothing was swelling or burning or changing colors. “See? Fine.” Swiping his tongue along his bottom lip, he added, “It’s sweet. Kinda spicy. You want to try?”

At the sight of Lance’s finger advancing closer and closer to his face, Keith squawked in outrage and flung his upper body over the edge of the bed in an attempt to get as far away as he could even as Lance pinned him down by the hips, laughing loud over him.

“Come on!” Playful fingers dug into his side, grabbing at his waist and hips and thighs before he could even react. An indignant shout burst from his chest, and he squirmed and wriggled through the sheets, unable to escape Lance’s invasive hands no matter which way he turned.

He was spinning, dizzy with laughter and happiness and Lance’s touch, and each time he thought he’d mustered enough strength to tell Lance to cut it out he’d be interrupted with another poke between his ribs.

 _“Lance!”_ he managed on his next gasp, and his accompanying kick sent him slipping, slipping, slipping—his fingers scrabbled at Lance’s arm—off the bed until his back meet the floor with a dull _thud_. Immediately afterwards whatever remaining breath left in his lungs was forced out as Lance’s very heavy body toppled onto his, and Keith was pretty sure he heard something inside him crack.

“Ow.”

“ _‘Ow?’_ ” Keith fumed, lifting both hands to begin pummeling at Lance’s shoulders, though it wasn’t as effective as he’d hoped considering their current position. “ _I’m_ the one who fell off the goddamn bed—which, by the way, your fault—and _you’re_ the one suffocating me!”

“Okay, okay, okay!” Lance yelped, shielding himself against Keith’s onslaught and rolling to the side at the same time until he was lying on his stomach a good distance away, face flat against the floor. Keith turned to glare at him, mouth already open in preparation for another retort, when he realized Lance was laughing again, harder than ever, his body scrunching in on itself with the force of it.

And something about watching his boyfriend—buck ass naked in the middle of the floor, dick out, skin flushed all the way down to his chest, and practically _vibrating_ —made Keith’s face twitch and contort until he found himself laughing just as loud and hard and radiant.

Once he’d deemed it safe enough, Lance rolled his way back over, wrapping all four of his lanky limbs around Keith to clasp them so close together Keith couldn’t even blink without his lashes brushing against Lance’s cheek.

“Hey,” Lance whispered.

Keith flattened his palm along the smooth plane of Lance’s chest. “Hi.” His face burned, which was _stupid_ , because him and Lance were currently naked and practically fused together with how close they were and he had no right to be blushing _now_.

Lucky for him, Lance didn’t notice the flush spreading across Keith’s skin in favor of reaching over him to grab the sheets that had pooled onto the floor as a result of their tussling. With one sweep of his arm, Lance covered them both, turning them this way and that until they were completely swathed in blankets.

When Keith spoke, his voice was so muffled even he couldn’t really hear what he was saying. “Why can’t we just use the bed like normal people?”

“What makes you think we count as normal people?” Lance countered. And because Keith couldn’t argue with that (and also because he could admit that being enveloped by nothing more than a few sheets and Lance’s warm, warm body was exceptionally nice), he allowed Lance to move them around the floor until he could fit himself comfortably between Keith’s parted thighs. He stretched his hands out in search of the rainbow lube and, upon finding it, gave Keith a hesitant look.

“So…”

Keith’s gaze flitted back and forth from the jar to Lance’s nervous expression. “Fine,” he sighed, letting his head drop back in resignation. And the way Lance’s face lit up at that one word was so ridiculous and childish and so very _Lance_ that Keith felt yet another bout of laughter crowding past his lungs.

“Taste the rainbow,” Lance said, voice breaking down into a wheeze as he pressed one long finger into Keith, whose body jerked slightly under the intimate touch, nearly bursting with the effort of restraining his laughter. Lance dropped his forehead onto Keith’s chest, shoulders quaking, breath beating warm against his skin, and Keith squirmed in indigance even as pleasure crept up his spine.

“Shut your up,” he snapped, and Lance laughed even harder, the sound of it shining bright in the dim room. “Oh, shit—”

Lance chose that moment to add a second finger, sliding them in deep and hard, and Keith tossed his head to the side with a muffled gasp.

“Alright?” Lance asked, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind Keith’s ear and brushing a kiss against his temple. Keith nodded, breath hitching as Lance’s fingers pushed further into him, scissoring and twisting and curling in all the right ways, working him open with the sort of ease that had Keith’s heart pounding faster than it ever should. The third finger tore a moan from deep within his chest, shaking through him with all the force of an earthquake like his entire body was on the verge of crumbling apart. Lance was incessant—his teeth scraped along the base of Keith’s neck, one hand fingering him open and the other tugging loosely at his cock—and Keith could feel him _everywhere_ , stamped into every inch of his skin and spread over every thought in his mind, and he already felt so unbearably _full_ and he hadn’t even gotten Lance inside him yet.

Soon enough, he was urging Lance to get on with it, his voice breaking off into another trembling moan at the slick pull of Lance withdrawing his fingers. Lance touched his hip, asked if he was ready, if he was sure, and Keith was saying _yes, yes, yes,_ his world blurring and refocusing and blurring again until the only thing he could see was Lance hovering above him, the one constant in his whirlwind of a life.

 _I love you_ , he mouthed, and Lance seemed to understand.

With one last press of his lips against Keith’s neck, Lance adjusted his stance to wrap a hand around his cock and line himself up, keeping his eyes open and locked on Keith’s face even as he pressed inside, slow and steady.

Keith groaned, bowing, feeling the cold hard floor beneath him, the sheets wrapped tight around his limbs, the weight of Lance’s body over his—and realized that this was the most comfortable he’d been in a long, long time.

And that was when Lance started _moving,_ strong and careful all at once, rocking them both back and forth, back and forth, mouth hanging slack in a way that seemed like he wasn’t even conscious of it. He caged Keith in with his arms, running a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face, tangling it through his fingers, and Keith could do nothing but lay there and try his very best to hold on.

“Keith,” Lance mumbled, lips barely moving, _“Keith.”_

Listening (always listening), Keith closed his eyes, losing himself to the feeling of Lance sliding into him, sliding out of him, tonguing along his neck and over his pulse point. He felt it when Lance sped up, almost helplessly, his hips driving farther and faster and sending Keith gasping into the scarce space left between them.

The haziness of his mind made it all the better, sparking a fire in his gut and striking at every one of his nerve endings. _Fuck,_  he felt good, and he wasn’t even sure if he was drunk anymore, wasn’t sure if he had even been drunk in the first place or if it was all Lance, all Lance and his blue, blue eyes and his silk-smooth touch—

All of a sudden, Keith found the wave of pleasure he’d been content with drowning himself in swept away by a prickling sensation along his sides, and he opened his eyes to that same mischievous smile plastered all over Lance’s face.

He couldn’t help himself—he laughed, too high up to bother pushing Lance and his teasing fingers away, feeling something inexplicable unravel within him. His throat scratched horribly and his chest throbbed something fierce just because Lance had made him laugh _that much,_ made him throw his head back and unfold in ways he never thought he’d be able to.

“God, I love your laugh,” Lance breathed, smile softening, hips pressing deeper, and though it wasn’t anything Keith hadn’t heard before it still managed to send his mind reeling.

And as he lost all the breath in his body for the umpteenth time that night, Lance thrust into him again, splitting Keith’s laughter into loud, breathless moans. He touched his lips to Keith’s, feather light, weaving their fingers together and gripping down hard and desperate like he couldn’t bear to let go, and Keith arched into him because he’d never be able to get enough of this—of Lance, of feeling like he held the sun between his fingertips.

He was too warm, too hot, and there was sweat building across his skin—it was absolutely _devastating,_ how close they were, and Keith wondered if he was even _himself_ anymore, if Lance had simply melted into him like he’d always belonged there, carving a home for himself right next to Keith’s aching, blooming heart.

“Doing so good, sweetheart,” Lance whispered, and Keith’s throat strained under another shuddering moan. “Always so good for me.”

Keith was already so overwhelmed; he could barely hear what Lance was saying even when his mouth was pressed right up against the shell of his ear, let alone conjure enough words in his head to form a cohesive sentence. He wanted to say something, wanted to tell Lance how good he felt, how good and how _deep_ he felt inside him, and that he—that he—

“Keith, baby,” Lance gasped out, fingers tightening over Keith’s, “I love you—love you so, _so_ much—”

And Keith was coming—and coming and coming and _coming,_  entire star systems shattering under his eyelids, lightning ripping him down to the seams. Every muscle in his body seemed to tense, stretching taut as a bow, trembling so hard it almost hurt. Distantly, he was aware of the noise he was making, and yet he couldn’t stop, couldn’t pretend like this wasn’t affecting him as much as it was. He felt Lance’s eyes on him, and he let it happen—let Lance watch him fall apart, let him take in the little broken sounds slipping from his tongue, the wrecked look on his face, the way he gave himself over to the pleasant warmth lapping at the edges of his mind and the tips of his fingers.

As he went boneless, Keith could hear Lance groaning against him, hips knocking into his as he chased his own release. Mustering the last of his strength, Keith flicked a look up at Lance from under his lashes and murmured his name, all breathy and rasping just the way he knew Lance liked, and that was enough to send him tumbling over the edge.

Swearing, Lance ground in deep before abruptly pulling out, a full-body shudder wracking through him as he pressed one last long, throaty moan into the jut of Keith’s collarbone. Keith winced a bit at the splatter of Lance’s come against his stomach, absently stroking a hand over his nape, playing with the short hairs there until Lance moved to flop over onto his back. For a moment they lay there on the floor of his room, breathing, exhausted and drenched in sweat.

“Me too,” Keith said to the ceiling and to Lance, and they all knew what he was saying. “You and your—your shitty ass lube.”

Lance snickered. “You know you like it,” he said, and laughed when Keith whacked his shoulder. Their heartbeats slowed, and Lance drew him under his arm, wrapping him up in his chest, and Keith was content falling asleep right there.

 

And the next morning, when Keith found his skin smeared all over with every single color of the rainbow, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything other than smile.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed !! u don't wanna know how long i spent on this ...
> 
> comments and kudos are much appreciated :)
> 
> please let me know what you thought! it would make my entire year<33
> 
> come talk to me on [tumblr](https://vividley.tumblr.com/) !! feel free to send me anything and everything ... your headcanons, prompts, whatever ... sfw, nsfw ... i love to chat!


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